Hopped Up and Ready to Go

For most of the past decade, my wife, Hanna, and I have been fortunate enough to take two trips a year to Mexico for bass. Usually the first one comes in January or February, just to escape the cold, and then we return in May or June, when the lakes are low and the fish are ganged up. I don’t get to fish lures like a 25-foot diving crankbait at home, so it’s a particular treat to find them bunched up and chewing on those like a dog toy. Occasionally, we’ve substituted a fall trip for the one in January, or we’ve gone in the fall in addition to the other trips.

I’ll admit, we’re spoiled. But one downside of being spoiled is that when you return to a normal level of travel it seems inadequate. For the past couple of years, including this one, we’ve only been taking one annual trip to El Salto. That means we haven’t been there since last June, and we won’t be back there until the end of this June, later in the month than we normally go.

And of course, judging from friends’ stories and pictures, the lake is having one of its best years I can remember. 

That leaves me sitting here, for the next two months, expecting it to be great, but also worried that there will be some cataclysmic event – a monsoon, earthquake or international incident – that turns them off completely or nearly completely. Seriously, it keeps me up at nights. I’ve been fishing a fair amount locally for bass since February, and will continue to do so until we get to Mexico, but there’s something about that first bite. If I’m not careful, I may break 50-pound braid or launch old Larry Largemouth’s lips into the stratosphere. 

In a few years, it’s my hope that we’ll go back to twice, or maybe thrice, a year. It’s really my happy place and I hate to be away from the lake and the people down there for too long. If you haven’t been, and bass fishing’s your jam, you need to get on it. Only then will you realize how one year can seem far longer than 365 days. I’ve packed and repacked my Senkos and glide baits, 10XDs and big old lizards, but the clock moves slowly…until you’re there.